


.i'm coming home (tell the world)

by aquatulip



Series: let the rain wash away (all the pain of yesterday) [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, Armin's parents are still alive, Car Wreck, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 10:58:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1302397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquatulip/pseuds/aquatulip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>when i was 15 (have i told you this story???) i wanted to kill myself, but i fucked up and then you climbed through my window and i think I fell in love right then, but also i think i’ve been in love with you for forever idk. </p><p>(& god am i happy you're alive)</p>
            </blockquote>





	.i'm coming home (tell the world)

**Author's Note:**

> AU where Armin doesn't die in a car accident.

The local news stations all read similar headline:  **Texting Teenager Crashes**  among  **Wrecked Vehicles Near School**. None of them detailed the situation more than a sixteen year-old had been texting while driving and rammed straight into another car; none of them had said the teenager had made it out with just a couple bruises while the other boy had been rushed to the hospital as blood poured onto the concrete of the cold road underneath him. One headline had read  **Queer Student Injured**  for only an hour before phone calls were made to remove it.

* * *

 

In his back pocket, his phone rings. “Mrs. Arl-” he begins, but then is cut off abruptly by frantic words thrown through a crackly connection. His hands shake when she says  _Armin’s in the emergency room_. “Mrs. Arlert, I’m going to be sick.” Eren gags, lowering the phone onto the kitchen counter and promptly spilling the contents of his stomach into the garbage can. His mom makes a noise in the back of her throat resembling disgust, but his limbs feel heavy and she sounds miles away. “Would it be okay if I… came by?” There’s a cold sweat forming on the back of his neck; he feels clammy.

Behind him, his mom asks him a question that falls upon deaf ears as he hurriedly hangs up the line before grabbing his coat. “M-Mikasa!” He calls, unsure if he can drive himself to the hospital without ending up in the same condition as Armin. Tears threaten to spill down his cheeks. “MIKASA!” he yells louder, shaking his dad from his newspaper at the dining table. She nearly topples down the stairs, pulling on her sweater before grabbing the car keys; the wavering in his voice gives him away. “Armin’s in the ER.” He whispers, voice hoarse.

His vision doesn’t focus; he feels like he is going to faint. No one reacts in the dining room aside from Mikasa who grabs her scarf off the coat hanger and smiles at their parents. “Looks like we’re missing dinner. Save the leftovers.” She says, looping an arm around Eren’s shoulders and leading him out to her car.

Their movements are slow: deliberate. Neither of them are processing the situation; Mikasa blanks her mind as she drums her fingers on the steering wheel as they head towards the hospital. “What do you think happened?” She asks when the huge building is in sight. Deftly, she merges into the left-turn lane. Eren’s whole body is shaking in the passenger seat; he wraps his arms around himself but feels feverish and disgusting, so he lays them at his sides.

“D-Dunno,” he answers quietly.

Mikasa swallows thickly, pulling up to the drop-off area. “I have a final tomorrow morning. If you can’t get a ride with the Arlert’s, then call me, but tell Armin to call me whenever he feels up to it.” The smile she gives Eren is reassuring:  _Everything will be okay; he’s strong._

Leaning forward, she presses her lips against Eren’s temple before watching as he climbs out of the car, not closing the door tightly enough the first time, so he slams it the second time. He stumbles into the hospital, wandering through the halls blindly as he searches for a familiar face; he shies away from people in favor of reading signs until he’s in a waiting room and an old man is standing up to greet him. “He’s… I… guess he only needed a blood transfusion and some stitches?” Armin’s grandfather struggles to laugh. “They were fixing him up in a room, but only two visitors at a time, so I’m waiting my turn – our turn.”

Unlike Eren’s family, Armin’s knows the status of Eren and Armin’s relationship; they are allowed a freedom within the Arlert household that they aren’t in the Jaeger one. When Eren starts chewing on his hand nervously, teeth digging deep enough to cut into his skin, Armin’s grandfather just wraps him into a hug and holds him there.

It feels like hours before Armin’s parents come out; shock registers on their faces when they see Eren, but then settles into a subdued happiness. “Eren.” Both parents sigh; his mother hugs him tightly about the waist, and his father about his shoulders. Then, “He’s awake. Fairly grumpy though,” his mother laughs, then her resolve crumples and she’s reduced to tears while she fervently whispers, “ _I’m so happy he’s alive_.”

His grandfather goes back there alone because Eren realizes he should update their friends; he reassures him that he’ll be back there shortly, “but don’t tell Armin I’m here, I want to surprise him.”

After the message is sent, he shifts his gaze to Armin’s mother; she’s a short, lovely woman with soft brown eyes and blonde hair that brushes her shoulders and falls into her eyes. “How serious was it?” He finds the courage to ask, pocketing his phone.

“The car was beyond wrecked. It is a shock that he’s alive,” she sniffs, wiping at her red-rimmed eyes. “Getting that phone call had been the _fucking_  worst,” her breathe catches in her chest. Beside her, Armin’s father begins to rub her back consolingly; Eren thinks he looks tired.

He takes careful steps down the hallway, turning left to enter Armin’s room. Two pair of vividly blue eyes turn on him as he shuts the door. Armin gasps audibly, then covers his mouth with his hand. “Eren,” his grandfather says, standing. “I’m on my way out. I’m exhausted. You could probably stay the night. He’s considered critical care.” He pulls Eren into a tight hug; his mouth at his ear, he whispers a relieved  _thank you_.

Eren thinks it is crazy he’s being thanked for wanting to be next to his boyfriend after he’s endured hell.

When the door closes behind Armin’s grandfather, Armin utters a weak “hi.” It sounds forced and there are rings under Armin’s eyes. He looks exhausted, vulnerable,  _scared_.

“I love you,” Eren says. A weight falling off his chest as he takes hesitant steps forward until his hand is holding Armin’s in a vice grip. The tears that had once threatened to spill over now come freely, falling like rain against Armin’s knuckles. “I love you love you love you love you love you.” He continues saying it; he’ll whisper it for eternities. Every tear is an  _I love you_  and every exhale is an  _I need you_. Eren inhales in giant gulps; his body wracks with violent sobs.

Armin reaches his other hand out, running his fingertips across tears, trailing them down to Eren’s lips. “I love you,” he says simply. “I’m alive, Eren.”

Choking, Eren turns his eyes back to the blond. “I thought… you…  _Armin_.” Words clog his throat, clawing their way out, but he doesn’t know the right words to say. “I’m so happy – so  _thankful_  that you are alive.”

He tries to laugh, but Armin starts crying instead, clutching Eren’s hand tighter as he pulls him closer. “I thought… I thought I was going to die.” His words are breathless: brittle. “I thought I was going to die and I just kept thinking about how I hadn’t replied to you this morning and then sometime I stopped thinking and this darkness swallowed me up and I was alone and I was scared.”

“I’m here,” Eren whimpers. Pressing his lips against each one of Armin’s fingers, against the palm of his hand, against his wrist where his pulse insistently thrums: strong, steady,  _beautiful_. “Never leaving,” he murmurs against his forearm. “Will never get rid of me.”

That earns a weak laugh from the blond boy who tangles his fingers into Eren’s messy hair, further mussing it until it is sticking up adorably in the back. He’s been growing it out for some time now, and Armin loves toying with the strands of his hair. “I love you,” he finds himself whispering again.

“Thought I was going to lose that smile of yours. Thought I was never going to be able to tell you that I love your dumb smile and your dumb dimples and  _Armin_ , I fell in love with you when we were fifteen and you climbed through my window and saved my life that night and I look at you and suddenly we are fifteen years old again and I am so  _in love_  with you.” His words are chaotic; he’s throwing every word out into the open air around them, suffocating the both of them. Armin whines, much like a puppy when you’ve stopped petting it.

When Eren gains the courage to look up at him again, there’s a plea in his eyes. “Eren, kiss me.” His voice is a tremulous whisper; Eren moves slowly, brushing blond away from his face as both his hands cup his face as though he’s made of porcelain.

He kisses him as if it could take the pain away; he kisses him languidly with mere brushes of lips and tongues that  _burns_ and  _aches_. Armin keens quietly; Eren whispers another  _I love you_  into his mouth when he does. The brunet pulls away. Armin makes a face: nose scrunching up, lips forming an easy pout, and brow furrowing in annoyance and disdain.

And  _god_  is Eren glad Armin is alive. 


End file.
